Reunion
by Ilovepi
Summary: A few months after the terrible Battle of Hogwarts, no one has recovered. Hogwarts' best Quidditch team gets together to cry and remember. Possible KB/OW, GW/AJ and maybe some others.


Oliver Wood sat hunched over a piece of parchment, nibbling absentmindedly on his quill

**If I owned it, I wouldn't be writing this. I would be off doing all sorts of cool things in foreign countries because I would be a billionaire.**

Oliver Wood sat hunched over a piece of parchment, nibbling absentmindedly on his quill. He sat up suddenly, scribbled a few more lines, sat back and read it over. He smiled and before he could change his mind, pulled out a thin stick and tapped the parchment, his lips barely moving. Five identical copies appeared next to it. Quickly, he signed his name on each sheet, accidentally splattering some ink on his robes. He frowned and attempted to Vanish the ink. Some disappeared, leaving vaguely grey splatters on his robes.

At least they weren't his brand new Quidditch robes.

He stuck the letters into envelopes, wrote some names on them and tied them to his owl, Bowman, named after the inventor of the Golden Snitch. No one could say that Oliver wasn't obsessed.

* * *

Angelina Johnson was standing outside in a thunderstorm. She liked the feel of the rain on her face. Somehow, it made her feel like God was crying, too. And she felt like the rain was washing her clean, clean of the dirt and death and horror of the night almost two months ago, the night she had lost one of her dearest friends.

The air during a thunderstorm smelled really good, she noticed. Clean and wet. It occurred to her that is she could bottle that smell and use it as a perfume, she'd make millions.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head up. Droplets hit her face running down her cheeks. The cold water was much more welcome than the warm tears that had been falling more often.

Something pecked her. Her eyes flew open.

Angelina recognized Bowman at once. In her fourth year, Bowman had been at her window constantly, reminding her of practices at four in the morning. She squinted at the owl, pushing strands of soaked hair out of her eyes.

The brown speckled owl was looking at her reproachfully. "What are you doing in Wales?" it seemed to ask. "And standing out in a thunderstorm, you doofus! No fair to me!"

"Sorry, Bowman," she whispered. Reaching for his leg, she saw five envelopes. Angelina pulled off the one with her name on it.

"_Impervious," _she muttered, pointing at the parchment. The rain stopped falling two inched above the letter as though an invisible wall was stopping it.

She scanned the contents quickly. Well, it sounded nice…she needed to talk to George, anyway. She turned the paper over and scribbled her response, reattaching the paper to the owl, who happily flew away.

She tilted her face to the rain, water streaming down it, clothes and hair dripping.

Angelina smiled.

* * *

Alicia Spinnet was covered in paint. A huge canvas was in front of her, the smiling faces of two boys looking out at her. She glanced at a slightly splattered photo in her hand. It was wizarding photo, naturally, and the two laughing boys were bouncing all over.

She added a bit more red to the messy hair of the first and a couple more freckles on the cheeks of the second, who was wielding a large rubber chicken. His twin was holding a large puffy hat. Both were wearing blue knitted sweaters, obviously homemade.

She stepped back for a second. The laughing boys on her canvas seemed invulnerable. Nothing could hurt them. But something had…

The sight of a large owl swooping into her private studio startled Alicia out of the reverie that always held her when she was painting. The barn owl seemed vaguely familiar…

There were a bunch of envelopes on the owl's leg. She sorted through them, noticing a pattern. However, there were two names missing from the group. One was dead. The other, presumably, sent the letters.

She ripped her envelope open and smiled to see that her guess was right. Flipping the paper over, she wrote, _'Sounds great!'_ and tied it back onto the owl, who promptly flew away.

Alicia turned back to her painting. She added the red and gold trappings of the common room in the background and was soon fully engrossed in her art once more.

* * *

Harry Potter was sitting in the bedroom of Teddy Lupin. Down the hall, Andromeda Tonks, who the papers were calling, "The Widow of the Second War," slept. She had lost her husband, daughter, son-in-law, cousin, and a sister who had disowned her thirty years before.

Harry was babysitting.

Little Teddy's hair was currently bright red. He was sleeping now, a rare occurrence in the life of the three-month-old. Harry gazed at him fondly.

His eyes were clearly Tonks'…those were the only thing she didn't usually change. And his nose was certainly Remus'; Harry would recognize that shape anywhere.

In spite of Moony's fears, the full moon had come and passed a few times with no ill effects, except perhaps a little more crying. But who could be sure whether or not that had anything to do with the full moon?

Teddy's hair, although he didn't know it, was the same color as Fred's had been.

An owl tapped on the window. Harry sighed. He hoped it wasn't more fanmail. That stuff was so annoying.

He opened the window and the owl stuck out his leg. He untied the letter with his name on it and read it quickly. _Interesting,_ he thought. In handwriting that was almost as messy as his hair, he scrawled, '_I'll be there! Can't wait.'_

Teddy woke up and began crying, his hair changing from Fred's red to Malfoy's blond. With a hasty glance at his godson, Harry tied the letter back onto the owl and hurried to the crib.

When he looked back, the owl was gone.

* * *

His pillow smelled like roses, George noticed. _Bet it's some prank of Fred's, _he thought.

One.

Two.

He started crying again. It happened over and over, didn't it? How could Fred not be there?

Fred had always been there. Only he wasn't anymore.

God was either very sadistic or non-existent.

Fred was dead.

Tap.

George was a mess.

Tap.

Everyone was mourning.

Tap.

And that obnoxious tapping was giving him a terrible headache!

Tap.

George swore. He rolled out of bed and blearily stared at the window. An owl. Of course. What else makes obnoxious tapping noises? Well, Fred when he was nervous.

One.

Two.

He started crying again. The owl stopped tapping and looked at him sympathetically. It looked strangely familiar.

He sighed and opened the window. The owl stuck out its leg and George pulled off the letter with his name on it.

Hmm, interesting. Not interested though. Too many reminders of painful memories.

Just then, a second owl approached his window. He recognized Angelina's handsome brown Jenkins at once. He swooped through the open window and stuck out his leg.

George sighed and unrolled the scroll.

_George, I really hope you're not considering not coming._

She really read him too well.

_We need you to be there. It won't be the same without you._

Didn't everyone say that?

_I know, everyone says that._

Talk about reading him too well. Ah well, great minds think alike. That's why he and Fred always finished each others sentences.

One.

Two,

He started crying. Angrily, he brushed his tears away and continued reading Angie's letter.

_Please come, George. We are all mourning. You aren't alone. _

He felt lonely.

_Well, if you just stay locked up in your room all alone, of course you'll be lonely._

God, it was creepy how well she knew him. Only Fred was supposed to be able to do that.

He rubbed his eyes and continued.

_But you don't have to be. Come, George. You won't be alone._

_Love, Angelina_

He scrawled, "See you then," on the other parchment and sent Oliver's owl off before he could change his mind. Then he gave Jenkins an owl treat.

* * *

The wind was whistling so loudly it practically drowned out the shouts of Katie Bell and her brother, Tommy as they passed a bright red ball back and forth while zooming around on brooms at around the tops of the tallest trees in the area, which were by no means short.

Flying helped take her mind off other things, never mind if Quidditch was where she had gotten to know Fred. Nothing could interfere with her love of Quidditch, not even the death of one of her closest friends.

Damn, she was crying again. Tears made it hard to catch the Quaffle.

Oh, who was she fooling? Even Quidditch was hard to concentrate on since the Battle of Hogwarts. Memories of that night haunted her. When that killing curse had missed Alicia by inches; when they had all thought Harry was dead and hope was lost; when she saw the hex hit Colin Creevey, watching him crumple and waiting for him to get up but he didn't and never did again; when Oliver had gotten hit by a burning jinx and his hair was on fire; seeing the hall with all the dead bodies lined up…Seeing Fred's motionless form.

"Katie!" Tom shouted, tossing the ball lightly at her. She caught it easily. "You okay?"

"Not really," she replied. They had all been so careful with her after that incident with the necklace. Honestly, the Battle of Hogwarts had been much, much worse.

"Want to stop?" he asked. She shook her head and tossed the ball back with a vengeance. Concentrating only on the ball, she cleared her mind from all other thoughts. Unwanted thoughts.

Swooping and diving, she was deep into the game when she saw Bowman. She tossed the ball in entirely the wrong direction, making Tommy dive, pushing his Comet Two-sixty to the limit. He made a spectacular save and pulled up, looking at his sister.

Katie was speeding toward the owl. Was everything okay? Why else would Oliver owl her? She grabbed the letter and read it quickly.

_Dear Everyone,_

_I have great news! Puddlemere United has hired me as a Reserve Keeper!_

Katie couldn't keep the cheer from coming out of her throat. Oliver had always wanted to play for England.

_It's been years since we really got together,_

Unless you counted the battle.

_I mean, really got together. Got together and actually talked. We've all changed a lot. Anyway, consider yourself officially invited to a get-together at my place in London on the tenth of August. I hope you all make it!_

_Oliver Wood, Reserve Keeper, Puddlemere United._

Katie laughed. Tommy, who was hovering nearby, let out a sigh of relief.

"What is it?" he asked.

"A party!" Katie replied. "At Oliver's."

* * *

Oliver Wood opened his window for a very tired and bedraggled Bowman.

Everyone was coming.


End file.
